Conscious Transitions

A few weeks ago, I attended the inaugural Tampa Bay Tech Week which led into BUP Innovation weekend. Throughout the week, I stood in rooms across Tampa Bay that felt entirely discordant with the previous decade of my life. For ten years, my world was defined by waving my hands around and the sound of choirs and orchestras.

I knew those rooms.
I knew how to exist within them; how to stand in front of high schoolers with glazed eyes and get them to sing before the sun was high in the sky; how to speak in front of hundreds of people as “Mr. Flentge.”

Growth can sometimes be a little itchy, and during the marathon days throughout Tech Week, I started noticing that familiar discomfort of growth.

I was surrounded by people who have touched, managed, and manifested billions (billions, with a "b") of dollars. As a singular example, I was 20 feet away from one of the top executives of Tampa International Airport and next to him was a CEO who developed an intelligence system for TPA that, from my understanding, can track every person within a half-mile radius of the airport.

Tech week blended into BUP, a 3-day hackathon designed to help you go from idea to functional app using vibe coding, I was there to pitch Arete. If you’re unfamiliar with the term vibe coding, I was also until very recently. I technically built Arete without writing a single line of manual code. Instead, I used natural language to describe what I wanted the app to look like, do, etc. I told the machine my philosophy, my functional requirements, and my aesthetic intent, and it built the architecture. That’s essentially "vibe coding” - you make the calls, AI does the work.

The conclusion of BUP was standing before seven judges, legitimate titans of industry and local investment, to give your pitch. It was an incredibly valuable opportunity to “practice” in front of people who could actually help make your dream come to fruition. And, there were cash prizes for the winners!

All in all, it was a beautiful weekend, and it was inspiring to see others stepping out of their comfort zone, trying something new, and hearing a room of people say, “I believe in you.” The world of AI is complicated, and the reality is that we don’t yet know how it is going to continue affecting our societies and the way we operate. But, I believe the best chance we have is learning to use these tools to create meaning and purpose. BUP showcased the possibilities that are now available to us if we use the tools intentionally.

News flash: I didn't win the cash prize.

I didn't place in the top three.

And yet, as I walked out of that room (without the cash prize), I felt an overwhelming sense of triumph. I chose to view every aspect of the weekend, the conversations I had, the people I met, and yes, the “loss” of the pitch competition itself as a win, fully aware of the stretching it took to get there.

The Architecture of the In-Between

I’ve talked about existing in a liminal space before. In case you were wondering, I’m still in it.

It is a season of profound "not knowing," a time where the shore I left is out of sight and the shore I am heading toward is still quite vague on the horizon.

I’ve survived in the financial wilderness of no paycheck for nearly a full year—the first year of my life not orbiting the academic calendar.

In our culture, we are often taught to despise these gaps. We treat them as inconveniences to be "gotten through" or "survived." We live for the future—for the day the app launches, the day the business turns a profit, the day the struggle “ends.”

But I have come to believe that the most favorite parts of my current experience are the ones I am experiencing consciously. I am trying to remain present with the friction. Within this friction, there is a fundamental understanding: there are things I do not yet know, and therefore I am being invited to grow.

When we view our experiences through the lens of opportunity rather than scarcity, the "failure" of not winning a pitch competition becomes a masterclass in professional development.

It is one thing to define your own wins, and another to be open to the wins that could come your way, however unexpectedly.

If we are willing to relinquish our grip on a specific outcome, we often find that the universe provides a far more valuable education than the one we initially sought.

Systems of Identity

One of the most significant realizations of this transition is my desire to balance my "Type B” tendencies with supportive systems. By nature, I approach life with a certain…laxity; a "figure it out as we go" rhythm.

There is a blissful charm to this rosy approach, but it has its limits when you are trying to build something of substance.

Systems are the scaffolding upon which our highest identities are built.

We often view "systems" as cold or clinical—a way to automate our lives into a brainless, repetitive loop. When I was a teacher, my life was a rigid system. I woke at the same time, drove the same route, and felt the same specific brand of misery at the same time every afternoon. That’s a system of survival.

The systems I am seeking now are different. I’m searching for the mechanisms that ensure my behaviors align with my values. They are the "how" of becoming a more focused entrepreneur and a more precise communicator. If I want to be a writer who produces a newsletter regularly, I cannot wait for the "vibe" or the right mood to strike; I must build a system that honors the craft.

One of the most famous quote from James Clear is, “We do not rise to the level of our expectations, we fall to the level of our systems.”

The systems we build, consciously or unconsciously, create who we are. To become who we want to be, we must be willing to redesign the blueprints.

This includes building a system for how we want to think, what we want to believe, and how we interact with adversity and hardship. We must choose the system of our growth.

I’m not saying we should approach these seasons with the mindset of "I can't wait to get out of this." That mindset anchors us in a future that doesn't exist, causing us to miss the inherent value of the present.

When we know we are in a transition or a period of discomfort, we can take ownership of our growth by asking, “What do I want to learn from this experience?” If you’re walking the path already and you know you have to keep moving, what do you want to gain from navigating the bumps and jagged corners?

Even the "hard stuff" can feel like forward motion if we are willing to stop viewing problems as obstacles and start viewing them as curriculum.

A Reflection on the Original System

Mother’s Day is one of my favorite holidays of the year.

Though I will never experience it personally, there is perhaps no greater example of a "conscious transition" than motherhood. It is a role that demands a total metamorphosis of the self. A mother must constantly learn new ways of existing as her children move through their own seasons.

Nature documentaries, like my favorite, “Planet Earth,” love showing how far a mother will go to protect and provide for her young.

Mother’s Day is indeed a much-deserved recognition of the moms whose devotion knows no end, even when their children don’t make it easy.

And let me tell ya, I never made that job easy on my mother.

Yet, despite my famous hard-headedness, she was a master teacher.

New words like “cockamamie” when I came up with an elaborate excuse or story, or “quagmire.”

She taught me that you catch more bees with honey and that the truth always lies somewhere in the middle.

She showed me grit and resilience, and what it means to never give up on yourself. She has shown me the value in taking my life into my own hands and the weight that responsibility carries.

She taught me to be grateful for all that I have, and to work tirelessly for the life I desire; to look adversity in the face and say, “I know this may be difficult, but I’m going to do it anyway because it is worth it.”

Among the countless lessons I’ve learned from her, standing above the rest (at least right now) is the value in taking my life into my own hands and the weight that responsibility carries. Her encouragement for me to always be my own person is what gave me the strength and courage to step out of the safety of the choir room and build a new plane while free-falling through the sky.

And, she taught me that there isn’t anything you can’t solve over a beer. And maybe a shot of Jäger.

To my mother: Thank you for teaching me how to grow. Thank you for being the first person to show me that life is not about the "win,” but about the story you tell and the person you become while telling it. You have navigated your own seasons with a grace that I am only now beginning to understand, and the more I watch you continue building your life, the more I am inspired by you each and every day.

And to all the mothers reading this: Whether you are in a season of high-intensity "doing," a season of heartbreaking "letting go," or a season of quiet "rest," know that your work is the ultimate manifestation of arete—excellence in the art of living.

May you be present with your own growth today.

May you see the beauty in your own transition.

May you live uninterrupted.

Happy Mother’s Day.

Until next time, live uninterrupted.

~Coleman